


communication and affection

by kiyokusa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29291787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyokusa/pseuds/kiyokusa
Summary: terrible things happen to good people every day. you happen to be one of those good people and futakuchi happens to be one of those terrible things.
Relationships: Futakuchi Kenji/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	communication and affection

Futakuchi wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re his best friend.

Sure, you’re the first person he goes to for everything but that doesn’t mean anything. 

Do you have a metaphorical key to his apartment? Yeah but it’s also a keypad. He could give that code out to Aone if he felt like it. Why he chooses you to know it isn’t important, it’s just how things are. 

“Shouldn’t your girl also be your best friend?” Oikawa says, tipping back his water bottle into his mouth. 

Futakuchi knows he’s putting on a show for the hot yoga class they’re passing. 

“No. Your best friend and your girl should be two different things. What if my girl’s acting like a bitch? Who am I supposed to talk to about it? Her?” Futakuchi tsks. “Come on, man.”

Oikawa shoots him that half amused-half exasperated look he reserves for Yahaba. “She’s not even your girl so why are you asking me that?” 

Futakuchi stops. “Who are you talking about?” 

Oikawa rubs off the sweat on his forehead with his T-shirt. No, Futakuchi’s not annoyed at the whispers this display garners. He has more pressing matters to worry about. 

If he also wipes off his brow with the bottom of his shirt, that’s no one's business but his own. 

Oikawa gives him the same look as earlier. “You know who I’m talking about.” 

“It’s not her.” 

His roommate sighs. 

His lips quirk upwards despite his clearly mounting exasperation. One can only have a similar conversation so many times before getting annoyed. 

“Who else could it be? Girls can’t stand you.” 

Futakuchi runs through the list of girls he’s been DM’ing but to his mild embarrassment, he can’t recall a single name. That doesn’t matter. It’s not as if he’s particularly close to any of them beyond the surface level. 

“You don’t know her,” is what he settles with. He flicks his towel over his shoulder and squirts some hand sanitizer on his hands as he walks out of the gym with Oikawa. 

He should probably ask if you’re coming over for dinner tonight but odds are that you’re already at his place.

Oikawa opens his door, sliding into the seat. “ _ I _ don’t know her?” A moment passes as Futakuchi gets in the passenger seat. Oikawa shakes his head and laughs. He keeps laughing as he reverses out of the spot. “Yeah, okay, I’ll bite. So she’s not your best friend. But you want her to be ‘your girl’?”

He doesn’t like the knowing tone Oikawa’s taking up. “I’m thinking about it,” he says, staring at the window. He won’t be giving Oikawa the satisfaction of seeing him get under his skin. It’s what made Oikawa look so goddamn youthful. 

“Uh huh,” he responds back, taking a sharp left turn and causing Futakuchi to slam the side of his head on the window. “Oops,” he says unapologetically. 

Asshole. 

Futakuchi holds his hand to his head, feeling the throb beneath his fingers. “You’re the worst.” 

“As I’ve been told.”

He doesn’t let Futakuchi have time to formulate some cutting remark and takes another left turn. “So you’ve been thinking about making her ‘your girl’?”

How does Oikawa manage to include the quotations in his question without using his hands? 

“It’s more complicated than that,” he huffs. No, he is  _ not _ turning his legs to the door. Oikawa, giggle somewhere else.

Oikawa hums, biting his tongue as he leans over the steering wheel to see the intersection better.

He hates living in this city. The roads are so much smaller than they are in the suburbs. 

“I don’t think it’s really that complicated. You’re just making it harder for yourself,” he offers, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he leans back into the seat. 

“What do you know?” Futakuchi mutters under his breath, mutinous. 

“I’m telling you, you’re overthinking it.”

“You don’t even know who she is.” 

Oikawa parks and turns to the backseat to grab his bag. “Yeah, I’m sure I don’t,” he agrees, shooting Futakuchi the same stare he gets when their team is at a match point. “Lock up when you’re done being a dumbass.” With that, he heads to the apartment, taking two steps at a time. 

As if Futakuchi is going to let him get the last word like that. 

**from kenji:**

tooru’s being an asshole

dont make him anything

**to kenji:**

apologize to him

and no

**from kenji:**

wtf 

no loyalty

he’s just as bad as i am

**to kenji:**

yeah

ok

see u in 10

See, you and Futakuchi (and Oikawa he  _ guesses _ ) have a deal. You, in your ever naive mind, thought the best course of action would be to room on campus for your first year in college. It’s an easy mistake to make with what everyone says it’ll be like. The reality of it is much worse and from what Futakuchi remembers, not worth it  _ at _ all. 

He’s pretty sure if he had had to live one more minute with his old randomly assigned roommate, something would’ve been committed. Preferably, his roommate but that’s another story for another day. 

He had dissolved his housing contract at the start of the new semester and found a nice place with Oikawa. He’s been in the same apartment ever since. 

Now you, poor little you, had decided to stick it out and wait until the next year to find a place off campus. 

In all fairness, you did have the better end of the deal when it came to roommates and you are  _ attached _ to your roommate’s hip. He can see why you’d prefer to wait a semester than lose your budding friendship with her. 

But it was the lack of good food that had gotten to you. 

Thus, the deal you three have found yourselves in. 

You get to use their kitchen whenever you want so as long as you leave each of them a portion of your food. It’s simple. And it works. 

It’s the excuse Futakuchi uses to explain why you have their access code. You had put up a fuss, saying that you didn’t mind waiting for them to be home so they could unlock their door for you whenever it was necessary, but he insisted. He might’ve let slip that he wouldn’t mind if you came over whenever, even without the temptation of food, and so you, being more intuitive to his needs than he’s aware of, read between the lines and accept the access code. 

You don’t abuse the code. The only times you’ve been over at their place alone are when he or Oikawa need something from the apartment and they’re on campus. 

It had taken Oikawa some convincing but when he realized how close you two were, he didn’t mind. Besides, he had Iwaizumi, Matsukawa and Makki over as if they were their unofficial roommates as well so it’d be hypocritical to exclude you. 

Though, those three don’t come over nearly as often as you do. 

You and Futakuchi have traded your 7pm gaming time for dinner and Futakuchi can’t say that this how fifteen year old him foresaw this going. 

The beginning of you and Futakuchi starts over a few games on Xbox live. As expected, he acted like a piece of shit when he heard the highness of your voice and accidentally led the rest of the group to some...shameful verbal harassment. When it had gotten out of hand, he tried to bring it back down but instead, the tables turned on him. 

You had tweeted a recording of the ordeal with a tactful ‘this shit is just embarrassing’. 

It made its rounds through Twitter before finding itself on his feed. Futakuchi immediately demanded that you take it down and you say you’ll only do so if he can beat you in another match. 

Somehow, that sparked a friendship between you two when you mercilessly came after him in the next game. You took no survivors. 

You still take no survivors, jeez, you’re ruthless. 

“Honey, I’m home,” Oikawa sings into their humble abode, toeing off his shoes and throwing his towel into the dirty hamper. Futakuchi follows closely behind him into the kitchen after tossing the keys into the dish and throwing his shoes in the corner because God knows you’d withhold his dinner if he walked in with his shoes on. 

You hum over the stovetop. There’s a boiling pot of water with the water precariously edging upwards. 

Oikawa dips his head to look over your shoulder and into the saucepan. “What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

You shoot him an amused look. “Mm, I’ll give that one a five. Not creative enough.” 

Oikawa huffs. “It’s been a long day so the creative juices aren’t flowing.” 

He makes to dip his finger in the sauce but you’re meeting his hand with a sharp slap of the spatula. “Ow!” 

“Wash your hands,” you warn, shaking the spatula in front of his face. 

Oikawa sulks but nonetheless heads over to the sink.

Futakuchi laughs. 

“You too,” you say sternly. 

He holds his hands up. “Okay, okay.” 

There’s no point in arguing with you that he already used hand sanitizer when he was at the gym. You wouldn’t believe him even if he had the footage with him. 

You start plating up the food while they wash their hands. Futakuchi thinks about hipchecking you when you pass by them but he doesn’t want to risk getting hot pasta down his pants. Once was enough. 

“Hey, are you free tomorrow night?” Futakuchi asks once all of you have sat down at the table. 

Oikawa’s on his left while you’re seated directly across from him. He glances between you and his roommate. It’s been a while since Oikawa’s chosen to sit with him instead of giggling over there with you. 

It isn’t jealousy he feels every night but it’s close. 

You were his friend  _ first _ . 

Anyway. 

“Why?” you ask. 

“Pick-up game tomorrow,” he answers, picking off the green bits you used as decoration for the pasta. He doesn’t trust them. 

He’s pretty sure Matsukawa’s girlfriend will be there so it’s not like you’ll be alone. Bringing you also brings the benefit that everyone there will assume you two are back ‘on’ from your supposed on-off relationship and he won’t have to act like he remembers anything about the girls he’s ghosted that always show up. 

It works out for everyone. 

An unreadable look crosses your face before vanishing. It’s replaced so quickly with a sardonic smile that Futakuchi thinks he’s misread your expression from the second before. 

“Unfortunately for you Kenji-chan, I’m busy.” 

“With what?” he asks, shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth as he does so. 

You wipe your mouth with the corner of your napkin. “You’re nosy,” you say carelessly. 

His blood pressure immediately rises. “It’s just a question.”

“Uh huh.” 

“Don’t tell me then,” he snaps, stabbing his fork into his pasta. 

Oikawa looks between the two of you. He’s indulging in the food and Futakuchi’s problems at the same time. His two favorite things. 

He decides to cut Futakuchi some slack and lays down his utensil. “Will you need a ride home after?” he asks, holding his head in his hand. 

You hum around your mouthful and then shake your head. “Nah, I’m planning on being back before 10.” 

Oikawa stares at you for a moment longer with his head in his hands and then picks up his fork again with his other hand. “The offer still stands. Any time,” he says. 

“Though,” you say, twirling your fork in the pasta, “I might use you guys as an out if the date goes badly.” 

That gets a laugh out of Oikawa. 

“So it’s a date,” Futakuchi says. He tries to keep his voice neutral but he’s frowning. 

“Yeah, a guy from my econ,” you nod. 

What is with you and econ students? You could at least have some taste and go for the engineering guys. 

Or go for straight up business students instead. Economic kids made him want to pull his hair out. 

“Well, have fun,” he says and he finds he doesn’t mean it. 

The food no longer tastes as good as it once did so he quickly eats and puts his stuff in the sink. He leaves you and Oikawa to go and set up the TV, steadfastly ignoring the way you two are laughing at how the date will probably go. 

There’s a heavy feeling in his stomach that he can’t quite name. Every time you go on a date, it dwells in his gut like some festering disease. 

He hates it. 

**from kenji:**

u free after class

? 

**to kenji:**

yeah what’s up

**from kenji:**

getting a haircut

come w 

**to kenji:**

why

**from kenji:**

nvm

**to kenji:**

no, why are you getting a haircut

**from kenji:**

???

it’s getting in my eyes tf

**to kenji:**

you dont need to see

if u get a haircut don’t talk me

ugly

**from kenji:**

lmao if u want to suck me off just say it

…

hello

It’s a slow realization for Futakuchi. 

It all comes to a head when you’re both at Target with him hitting your ankles with the cart. You react as he predicted and almost brain him in the aisle with the puzzle you two have been going back and forth on. 

He’s laughing as he avoids your smacks with a few ‘chill,  _ chill’ _ thrown in the mix. You’re whisper yelling at him that he’s being a menace with a few furtive looks at the other people in the aisle who are trying to politely avoid any and all eye contact with the two of you. 

It’s then that it hits Futakuchi. 

He’s in love with you.

You, who never lets him catch a break. You, who hides one of the puzzle pieces when you leave because you know he’ll try to finish the puzzle without you and you know it’ll piss him off. You, who sends him cringe compilations you edited of  _ himself _ . You, who can be a bit mean and a bit insensitive but who loves harder than anyone he’s ever known. 

You, who Futakuchi has been trailing after for years without any awareness of his actions.

You, who has been the only person he’s truly attached himself to. 

He’s an idiot. 

He’s standing there with the cart half pushed in front of him like a fool while you place your hands on the other side of the cart and shove. 

It jerks him out of his thoughts. 

“Come on, I want to go,” you say, ceasing in your attacks. 

“You’re a crime against humanity, you know that?” he says automatically, jerking his leg up. He rubs his knee where the cart slammed into him. The ache helps him focus. 

“I picked the cow one,” you say, bypassing his comment. 

“You don’t even drink milk anymore.”   
“Okay? Me thinking the cow puzzle is cute is separate from me drinking milk.”

You’re treating him like the idiot he feels he is. He deserves it.

No wonder Oikawa always looks like such a smug asshole. 

“You know, I forgot to ask,” he begins, ignoring the way you’re looking at him, “How did that date go?”

He doesn’t actually care and would rather stick needles in his eyes than hear you gush about Mr. Econ but a part of him needs to know. 

You hesitate. “It was fine,” you say carefully. 

“Just fine?” he says as he comes up to your side with the cart.

You shrug, your hands gripping the package of the puzzle tightly. “He was nice.” 

“But?”

There’s a loaded look in your eyes as you look up at him. You regard him in silence for a few seconds. It’s not quite uncomfortable but Futakuchi gets the feeling that he’s treading on some very thin ice. 

“I don’t know, it didn’t feel right,” you say and drop the box into the cart. 

“What? You wanted a connection?” he surmises, gently pushing the cart along. 

He can’t help how he sounds derisive. Who believes in that shit? 

You shrug again, looking at him over your shoulder. “Among other things,” you wrinkle your nose and turn your face forward, “Besides, I’m more into guys with a terrible personality. And brunettes with brown eyes.”

Wait a minute.

That sounds awfully familiar.

“You’re just describing Oikawa now,” he points out bitterly. 

You turn back to him sharply. There’s noticeable annoyance in your expression. “And you.”

“I mean, yeah but you’re still describing Oikawa.” 

How is he supposed to compete with  _ Oikawa _ ?

He can see that you’re taking deep breaths and counting them out before squaring your shoulders. 

“You’re stupid aren’t you Kenji?” you say offhandedly. 

It’s not that you look angry when you say it but Futakuchi is more attuned to you than you give him credit for. You’re upset with him in that resigned way you get when he speaks before he thinks. Except, you have no reason to be getting irritated when you’re insulting  _ him _ . 

He’ll take a lot of slander from you but this is straight up unwarranted. 

“Is that your go to?” he mocks. 

“I wish it were. My go to is that you talk a lot of shit for someone who doesn’t remember how to do long division.” 

“No one past the seventh grade remembers long division,” he argues, looking around to make sure no one heard you say it. 

“You’re in business. You’re not exactly surrounding yourself with the brightest.”

Remind him why he likes you again? 

**from kenji:**

_ img attached _

what do u think

**to kenji:**

why can i see ur toes

**from kenji:**

stop looking at them

**to kenji:**

it’s fine ig

**from kenji:**

what do you mean ig

**to kenji:**

it looks dry

and unseasoned

**from kenji:**

ok not all of us were meant to be in the kitchen 

🙄

**to kenji:**

omg ur sooo funny 

ur the funniest person i know

have u thought about youtube

**from kenji:**

thanks!

**to kenji:**

i’ll kill u

He’s in love with you. 

This thought is all that consumes him in the following days of his inner discovery. 

Luckily, you haven’t picked up on anything but Oikawa sure has if Futakuchi considers the slightly raised eyebrow he had when Futakuchi almost shoved your legs out of his lap during movie night. It’s not one of his finest moments, but he was overcome by pure panic. He’s trying to recalibrate how he should act around you okay? 

You’re not some girl he can fool by acting uninterested. You  _ know _ him. He can’t pull one over you, you’ll get on his ass so quick. 

Futakuchi decides that he’s not going to be dramatic about this. 

He’s not. 

He’s not blowing up Aone’s phone, accusing him of setting him up for failure. 

He only sends four texts. They’re rather long but still, it’s only four texts.

(Aone doesn’t respond.)

He considers getting advice from Gao because Gao’s a good guy. But Gao’s a sucker for a good romance so he’d probably give him advice from the latest historical romance he’s read. And he’s also a loudmouth. He doesn’t know how to keep a secret to save his life. 

He isn’t going to consider Oikawa. He won’t be able to deal with him and his shit eating smile. He cannot give Oikawa the satisfaction. He’s told him countless times that you two are only friends. 

The mere thought of Oikawa’s condescending smirk pisses him off. 

There’s no one else he’s comfortable talking to about this. Vulnerability doesn’t come easy to him. He doesn’t know how to let people in in a way that he doesn’t fear won’t bite him in the ass. 

The only person he’s allowed in is you. And you’re the root of his problem right now. 

God, being in love with your best friend  _ sucks _ . 

He’s being punished and for  _ what _ . 

He is but a simple business student with a penchant for telling the truth, warranted or not. 

Is that really such a problem? 

Futakuchi buries his head into his arms.

Oh, God, this isn’t even the worst part of his dilemma. 

You’re going to be insufferable once he tells you and he  _ is _ going to tell you. 

There’s no way he’ll be able to keep this bottled up inside of him for too long. 

He figures, whether this goes in his favor or not, you’re going to hate him if he sets up anything. It won’t be authentic to him if he plans out something vaguely romantic anyway. 

Besides, you guys aren’t in high school anymore. There is no need for flowers and the whatnot. The best policy is to be upfront. But he can’t just let you know unprompted. 

There has to be a happy medium. 

He gets chills at the thought of texting you a ‘hey lol’. You know him too well. You’d probably block him until you saw him in person to make fun of him. 

There can be no texts at all in this situation. 

This is ten times harder than it usually is. You two are friends,  _ good _ friends. 

How do people even transition from friends to dating? 

Fuck, he’s psyching himself out. He should just do it.

You’re meant to come over tonight and Oikawa’s staying over at Iwaizumi so in theory, there is no night better than tonight. 

Okay, he’ll make dinner. He can’t cook for shit but there’s some boxed mac and cheese somewhere in the pantry. Or maybe he can do ramen. He knows how to spice that up. 

You guys aren’t even dating and you have him doing this. 

The next two hours are spent throwing things in the pan and hoping they work. 

Futakuchi slurps up a noodle. He swallows it. It doesn’t make him gag this time so that is a win. 

He hopes you’re hungry because after all, hunger is the best seasoning. 

Should he plate them and make them look nice? Is that overkill? Would you notice?

The sound of the door opening interrupts his wildly running thoughts. His body straightens up the instant he recognizes the sound. 

“Hey,” you call out. 

He can hear you putting your shoes on the shoe rack. 

Does he look stiff? He feels stiff. 

“Hey,” he calls back robotically. 

You peek your head around the corner, raising your nose to sniff the air. 

“Did you cook?” you ask, incredulously. 

He’s too stressed to give you a proper glare. 

You head over to him with your hand raised. “Are you sick?”

Instead of waiting for him to respond, you place your hand against his forehand and your other hand against your own. “Hmm,” you hum, flipping your hand to press the back of your hand against his forehead. “You don’t have a fever. Are you feeling okay?”

He shakes your hand off his forehead. “I’m never doing anything nice for you ever again,” he retorts. 

“Who else will change my oil for me then?” you say dramatically. 

He rolls his eyes as he shoves a plate into your hands. “You really do need to learn how to do that.” 

“Why would I? You do it for me.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, pushing you to the dining table. 

You hold yourself back, putting your plate on the counter. Your brows are drawn inwards. “Okay, seriously. What’s wrong? Are you doing okay?”

He lets himself be pulled to the living room. He takes a seat on the coffee table while you take a seat on the couch. 

Your legs are crossed and you’re staring at him with your teeth buried into your top lip. You nod your head towards him. 

“I’m fine,” he says. He’s happy that his voice doesn’t sound as strained as he feels. 

Yet, the worry on your face doesn’t lesson. 

“Come on, tell me,” you push, patting his knee in what he thinks you assume is a comforting gesture. 

It’s not. 

“I have a lot on my mind.” 

No shit. 

“Then you should tell me what’s on your mind, relieve some of that anxiety,” you say soothingly. 

He scowls. This is a bad idea. He needs to abort the mission. He’ll try again next week.

Futakuchi lets out a loud sigh and makes to get up. “It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.”

You force his body back down. You tsk at him. 

“You do this every time and every time you end up telling me what’s going on. Please, save me the grief and tell me now rather than tomorrow,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“It’s not a big deal!” 

“It is to me! You’re not going to be able to sleep until you get whatever it is off your chest and then you’re going to be grumpy and make my life miserable and Oikawa’s! Just say it!” 

If he had the mental energy to pick apart the layers of what you’ve said, he’d feel warm about it but he doesn’t. His brain is frayed and he wants this to be over with. 

He looks you dead in the eyes and says, “I’m losing my sanity because all I can think about is how much I want to be with you.”

You freeze. “What?”

Then you shake your head, slapping your cheeks. There’s a smile that’s beginning to form on your mouth. 

“Give me a second,” you say and get up. 

He stares as you start to look around the area. 

Uh, is this how it’s supposed to go? 

You start digging through the couch. You hold your finger up when he clears his throat, making a face the deeper your other hand goes into the crevice. 

He feels a little insulted. 

“Gee, thanks for letting a guy down easy,” he says waspishly. 

You have the nerve to raise your eyebrows at him. “Oh, you were being serious?” 

“I wouldn’t say that for no reason,” he grits out. This is humiliating. You’re the worst person to have a one-sided love for. 

You hum, grinning as you fish out whatever it is you are looking for. “I think the proper way to tell someone you’re into them is in three words or less.” 

“Now you’re just being a jackass.” 

You show him the puzzle piece in your hand. It’s a perfect match for the one that’s been sitting on the coffee table for the past couple of months. He  _ knew _ you were lying about not knowing where the last piece was. 

“Okay, cool, you have the last piece. Why choose now to look for it?”

You shrug, slotting the piece in its correct place. 

“I needed to buy some time to figure out what I wanted to say.”

He’s sick of this. 

“And?”

You look smug which is starting to grind his gears. 

“And?” he repeats, a touch of genuine anger entering his voice. 

“Let me savor this okay?” you say, holding your hand up at him.

That’s it. 

“I’m going to go,” he says, grabbing his jacket and keys. He can’t believe he’s leaving his  _ own _ apartment. 

You’re the worst, full stop. 

Immediately, you’re grabbing onto his arm. He tries to shake you off but your grip is firm. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. I like you too. I’ve been waiting for you to get your head out of your ass for so long, I just wanted to enjoy this for a little longer. I’m sorry.” You’re trying to be serious but he can hear the laughter in your voice. 

He supposes he’ll stay and hear you out. 

He’s irritated about it though. 

“What do you mean you’ve been waiting for so long?” he asks suspiciously. 

He takes a seat on the couch with you following onto his lap. 

Okay, he can get used to this, especially the way your thighs are bracketing his waist. You balance yourself on his shoulders with your hands though he can feel most of your weight is settled on your legs. He can appreciate the need for contact. 

“Oh man,” you say and this is the first time since the night began that he’s seen you look embarrassed. 

Like a shark scenting blood, he latches on. 

“Oh?” he says, placing his hands on your waist. He feels you tense and his smile sharpens. 

He applauds you for maintaining eye contact because he can feel the minute shaking of your body. This nervous version of you is one he hasn’t seen in quite some time.

“Look, I’ve known,” at this you pause and make a face seemingly debating your options, “Okay let me try again. I’ve known you were the guy for me since we were in high school. I’ve just been waiting for you to realize it.” You make a face as if he had stuck a lemon in your mouth. 

Futakuchi tilts his head at you. He watches you trail your eyes down his neck. How did he never notice?    
“But you dated those guys…?” he trails off. 

You roll your eyes and lean down until you’re almost nose to nose with him. “Just because I knew I wanted you didn’t mean I wasn’t going to be with other people in between,” you smile, a touch of bite marring the edges, “I was playing the long game and having my cake too.” 

He shifts your weight so that now he’s supporting most of it. “Uh huh, so how long were you willing to wait?”

You look to the side thoughtfully. “I was going to give it to graduation. Then I was going to do my last resort.” 

He’d love to hear all about that last resort except you’re pressing your lips against his and gripping his hair as you push him down onto the couch and well, he can’t be blamed for having his mind elsewhere. 

He’ll get it out of you later. 

**to kenji:**

you know

i was thinking about the first time we met

**from kenji:**

lmao

just say ur in love w me

it's easier

**to kenji:**

and i thought u were the worst

u are

im blocking u

**Author's Note:**

> kenji is def in the top 3 of funniest people in hq, thank u, i will take no other considerations at this time


End file.
